Celebrating That Never is Now
by ProfTweety
Summary: Prompt#6, A sense of occasion: Andy bought the small house on a tiny lot after he celebrated five years of sobriety. He always said he'd never sell it; it was the reminder of how far he'd come from that broken man who'd lost his wife, his kids, their home together and almost his career. Never is a strong word; sometimes you come across a good reason to change your mind about never.


_**Celebrating That Never is Now**_

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing related to _Major Crimes_ ; James Duff, et al, had that lovely distinction.

 **A/N** : _BAMDAMMMsters_ prompt #6, _A sense of occasion_ : Andy bought the small house on a tiny lot after he celebrated five years of sobriety. He always said he'd never sell it; it was the reminder of how far he'd come from that broken man who'd lost his wife, his kids, their home together and almost his career. _Never_ is a strong word; sometimes you come across a good reason to change your mind about never.

 **A/N2:** This isn't your typical sense of celebration fic but then again Musey thinks Sharon and Andy aren't always typical either. _**Enjoy**_! _Leave a review_ if y'all's feel so inclined; they are ever so lovely to read. **#TodayIsLife**

~~~~~PT~~~~~

Andy bought the small house on a tiny lot after he celebrated five years of sobriety. He always said he'd never sell it; it was the reminder of how far he'd come from that broken man who'd lost his wife, his kids, their home together and almost his career. _Never_ is a strong word; sometimes you come across a good reason to change your mind about never.

The bungalow was white with blue shutters; he'd painted it himself. The white would reflect the sun, keep his cooling bills down he'd told himself when he'd finally chosen the exterior colors. The blue was the color of the sky and he'd grown to appreciate waking up each new day, going to work, being alive; the blue reflected being alive and being sober. Every day sober increased his chances of rehabilitating his relationship with his kids and of getting closer to being fully-vested for retirement from the LAPD.

The neighborhood left a lot to be desired back then so the house came at a price he could afford. It needed work but he was handy and it saved money to slowly work on the place himself. Over the next five years he fixed this or that, refinished here and there, until the place was exactly as he wanted it. That was ten years ago and he promised then he'd never sell it. Now here he was, almost fifteen years to the day he closed on the place, walking from room to room as memories flashed before his eyes. _I'll never sell_.

He'd lost count of the number of younger women who'd passed through his door and brought him momentary happiness in his bed or on his couch. Those one night stands that turned into short-term partners also brought him momentary happiness in his shower or kitchen.

He'd lost count of the number of baseball games he'd watched with his best friend over the years. How many times had he helped him through a break-up only to hear him resolve once more to keep trying? Louie Provenza didn't give up on the one thing Andy Flynn had long ago decided wasn't for him and that was everlasting love.

As he walked from room to room, smiling at the good memories and frowning at the somber ones, he remembered that day he signed the papers making this house his home. _I'll never sell_.

The walls were now bare, the floors too; there was nothing to show that he'd lived there, that he'd owned the place for fifteen years. Boxes that once sat in the living room were now on a moving truck headed to Goodwill. _I'll never sell_.

Falling in love wasn't something he'd ever expected to happen, not for him, not at his age, not with her of all people. But fall in love with Sharon Raydor is exactly what he had done. Years of being hostile to her hid his underlying attraction. Years of being friends with her hid his crush. It didn't take him years of dating her to know he'd love her forever; he'd figured that one out pretty quickly. The _Sharon Effect_ was pretty strong in his life and he didn't fight it, didn't want to lose it, he wanted to hold on to it forever. _I'll never sell_.

Things become clearer when you get older. What's important versus what's not; love versus loss; promises made to last a lifetime versus promises made for the here and now. That house was a symbol of his sobriety, of all the things he'd done right in his life since he last lost himself in the bottom of a bottle. _I'll never sell_.

Working with someone you date can sometimes be problematic; for them it wasn't. There was a nice ebb and flow, give and take, between their lives at home and the people they were at work. Their team knew, hell _everyone_ knew, but there was a professionalism she expected and he gave.

Being in their own heads too much, too often could've been a downfall for them; they'd figured out how to make it work. Communication was important to the both of them; they just had to learn to do it appropriately so neither felt they were giving in too much, losing too often. Sharing many common bonds was what made talking easy for them.

Spending most of his time at her place was an easy solution to their need, their desire, to be together outside of work. He'd decided to spend one day a week in his place, his little reminder that it was his. _I'll never sell_.

The day they'd discussed possibly moving in together was probably the hardest day in their entire relationship. Sharon loved her condo; she didn't want to live in a house. Andy loved what his house stood for, his sobriety, and thought giving that up meant getting drunk once again. Only he didn't know how to explain that, the words came out all wrong. The discussion ended with Sharon thinking he only wanted to date her, that their's was not a relationship meant to pass the remaining tests of time, to last the ages, but rather one where they each had their own and sometimes the two overlapped. _I'll never sell._

The look on her face, the unshed tears in her eyes, as she asked him to leave her alone that night was what made him start thinking about the connection between the house and his sobriety once and for all. His best friend pointed out that he hadn't bought it on the first day he went without a drink, that five long years had passed before that happened. He'd left with a question to think about as he'd walked out his door that night. "What are you _really_ afraid of, Flynn?"

He'd let two days go by, the entire weekend they were off and had plans to spend it together in the mountains, before he went to see her. The sadness on her face was reflected in his own and this time he found the right words to explain everything to her, to make her understand while adding that he'd changed his mind at the thought of losing her. A _house_ , when he spent six days a week at _home_ with her, wasn't worth what he'd be losing. He could maintain his sobriety with her, in _their_ home. On that day _never_ changed to now and he'd promised to find the right people to handle it all.

Now here he was, walking room to room in his empty house an hour before he met his real estate attorney to do the one thing he said he'd never do. He was going to another closing, this time to sell his beloved home, his proof of sobriety. As he closed the door for the last time, he thought of all that had changed over the fifteen years he'd owned it and he came to one conclusion. His sobriety is within himself, not the house, and so he walked back to his car with a satisfied grin that said it all as she looked over at him, checking on his state of mind.

Andy had taken Sharon's calendar into account when he scheduled the appointment for late Friday afternoon and asked her to come with him for support; she was happy to do anything to make it easier on him.

The closing _was_ easy, there was nothing for him to do but sign the myriad of forms set before him. As Sharon sat quietly next to him, he held her hand in his left while he signed with his right and when it was done, he handed over the keys to the buyers' attorney.

As he stood up to leave, she held his hand and told him there were a few more forms to sign. Sitting back down, he looked slightly confused. When Sharon's attorney came in he couldn't imagine what was going on. The buyers' attorney and the title agent left after shaking hands with him and the new closing commenced. Sharon signed the form to change the name on her deed from hers alone to both of their's and Andy signed beneath though he was still a bit unclear as to what exactly was going on.

After leaving, they walked to the car and headed in the direction of home, their home. Stepping into the condo, he found the belongings he'd wanted with him placed throughout. Some of the new furniture they'd picked out as they played _what if_ was already set up. If he had checked, he would've noticed the extra sports channels he had on his cable account at the house were now on hers in their's. He'd notice his name in the mailbox the first time he brought up the mail.

Looking around, he felt something he couldn't quite explain. It felt like a mixture of happiness and sorrow, of confusion and clarity, of love and loss and he knew better than to try to explain it when she asked him how he was doing because he'd only mess up what was one of the happiest days of his life. Instead he held her tightly to him, whispering how much he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He'd mentioned it before, during that conversation after the fiasco of a bad explanation; she hadn't believed he was asking a question but rather making a statement of future intent. She felt the same way that day, though she did voice wanting the same thing.

Now, snug in his embrace, she suggested celebrating the closings by spending the weekend in the mountains at the same place they missed out on the last time. He agreed but worried about the lack of reservations. The next day was considered extremely short notice in the hospitality business. Always one to celebrate an occasion, she'd gotten the reservations when the date of the closing was confirmed.

He couldn't resist the urge to kiss her even as she told him to check everything out and be sure it was to his liking. Sharon made coffee as Andy walked through the rooms of his home; rooms filled with love and memories, enough room for both of their belongings, displaying a mixture of the old and the new. This was the new start he'd hoped for but deep inside thought he'd never get.

As they sat on the balcony to drink their coffee, they heard a knock on the door. He wondered why she suggested he get it as if she already knew who was knocking. Opening it, he found the members of the team and both their families happily waiting to be let in. Looking back at her, he saw her nod and her eyes glisten before she headed back towards the balcony to bring their coffee mugs inside.

That day, amongst family and friends, they celebrated new beginnings, holding on and letting go, and the joining of two households into one. She was the queen when it came to the sense of occasion and the pictures taken that day showed the happiness in everyone around them but most importantly within themselves.

When everyone had gone for the night, she took his hand and they explored their bedroom. This was the one room he had yet to see, wanting to wait until she was with him, and as he stood there taking in the sight, he felt himself flush with emotion. It was the perfect blend of the both of them, who they were separately and together. Pictures of all of their children had been displayed throughout, denoting the combining of families. Words at that moment were impossible; he kissed her deeply instead.

Making love felt different that night for the both of them. It wasn't until he was holding her afterwards that he truly realized what she'd done. Sharon Raydor, the woman who earned everything she had, without hesitation had shared it all with him with one signature on one form. Letting go of her just long enough to take something out of the drawer in his bedside table, he again mentioned spending the rest of their lives together. She didn't want him to feel obligated and told him so. Changing the name on the deed was her way of showing how committed to him she was, of celebrating the huge step he was taking by selling his home. Reminding her they'd spent the day together so there was no way he'd just bought the ring, he _asked_ her this time and she agreed.

After making love once more to celebrate all the changes they'd made that day, she called him the king when it came to the sense of occasion. Smiling at the remark, he couldn't help but notice how she played with her engagement ring, the expression on her face whenever she looked at it and he knew with all his heart he'd made the right choices lately.

They had plenty of reasons to celebrate during that weekend in the mountains: time off from work, the joining of their lives and households, their engagement, but most importantly they celebrated finding love at their ages when both believed that possibility had long since passed them. The day he officially asked her out had set them on a new course.

Yes, they had plenty of reasons to celebrate that weekend they spent in the mountains.

[ **The End]**


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